I Killed You, I Saved You
by FireOpal
Summary: With a quiet sob, she slid to her knees, curled up against the underside of the octagonal desk and, pulling her legs up tight against her chest, sobbed. Spoilers for 'Father's Day'. Rose confronts her emotions.


**F/N:-** Right, this is me getting my thoughts on 'Father's Day' out of my head as much as anything. Expect the usual. Angst, comfort, tears, etc. I know it's a little predictable, but, as I said, I needed it out of my head, and I thought I might as well post it. It was such a emotion-filled episode that I don't think anyone can admit they weren't moved. Anyway, havea look if you want, and reviews will be read but aren't necessary.  
P.S. The ending is a little bad, I apologise. I just couldn't think of anything decent enough.  
Slight Rose/9thDr if you squint, stand on your head and hum the national anthem. (British national anthem).  
I own nothing 'Doctor Who' related, nothing BBC related, or anything much really. I'm a sad sad person.

* * *

**I Killed You, I Saved You.**

It was much later. As soon as they had entered the TARDIS and the Doctor had silently dematerialised them from November, 1987, she had left, and was now wandering aimlessly through the corridors. As she had exited the control room, she had half-glanced back, and he was stood there, looking over the controls, that all-seeing expression on his face and concern in his dark eyes. But she had kept going, hid her face and tried not to hurry from the room.

She turned left, and realised she must've walked in a long, winding circle, as she was back where she had started from – the control room. Cautiously, she opened the door, but the room was empty, the Doctor having long ago left. She didn't particularly care where he was at the moment, but she just couldn't face him.

Walking slowly into the familiar room, she ran her fingers feather-lightly over the controls, and the first slow tear slipped down her cheek. With a quiet sob, she slid to her knees, curled up against the underside of the octagonal desk and, pulling her legs up tight against her chest, sobbed.

It was all her fault. She had been the one to suggest they visit her dad, and, having decided that seeing her parents' wedding wasn't enough, had persuaded the Doctor to take her to see his death. Being surprisingly lenient, he had taken her, twice in fact, and she just couldn't resist. Dashing out to save her father was probably one of the stupidest things she had ever done, and the look in his eyes was so cold, so hurt.

Later, in the flat, she had felt so guilty, but, confused in her emotions about her dad, she had gotten angry, said so many things she shouldn't have. He thought she'd used him, and, in a way, she probably had. She had returned the TARDIS key, just like that. Just handed it over like it was a piece of junk. As soon as she had got her dad it was 'Sorry Doctor, I've got what I want, sod off.' But she hadn't meant it – the Doctor was everything to her now.

And her dad; he wasn't a hero, he wasn't a businessman, he was just another Del Boy, selling dodgy tonic water and rubbish. The realisation had hit her like a stone as she had stood outside that church, her mum and dad arguing, and it had hurt so much. Her dad, the one she had idolised, her mum had sung his praises all through her childhood, helped her visualise the perfect father-figure, was a fake, a wash out. Just like her.

The Doctor had saved her again, come running up as the Reaper had swooped down to kill her, destroy another part of the wound she had caused in time. As he had run up, she had smiled, knowing he was back, back for her, and her parents were happy again.

"Into the church!" he had yelled, and dived in front of her, risking his life for her, just 'another pathetic ape'. He had saved them, rushed them into the safety of the old building. He had done so much for her it made her heart ache and tear to think of what she had done to him. Words said that could never be taken back, deeds done that couldn't be undone. And still he had apologised.

She had been stricken. Why was he, the Doctor, the one who had done nothing wrong, apologising to her? Didn't he see it was all her fault? She had apologised as well, trying to convey her emotion into the small words, trying to make him see it, even if she couldn't change it. For a split second as her eyes stared into his, she had wondered if she just threw herself outside, let herself be devoured, would it change it? Would the timeline revert back to normal? Would the Doctor be free?

And then he had grinned, his eyes shiny with tears, and hugged her tightly, like he didn't want to let her go.

He had died for her. Thrown himself underneath the Reaper, just for her and a couple of other scrawny humans. She had been devastated. Now she had not just destroyed the world and her life, ruined her relationship with a man she cared deeply about, but she had killed him. He was dead, and it was all her fault. For those long moments in which he had stood in front of them, fearless and trying with his last breaths to save them, she had been so scared, but when it had swept down to, she couldn't even think it, she had wanted to sob, to scream, to beat at it with her bare fists, just to stop it. He was dead and it was all her fault. She couldn't go back to stop this, she couldn't do anything; she was helpless.

When he had returned, her dad running out into the road, she had wanted to break down on to the floor. It was so simple, have the Doctor and loose her dad, again.

"Go to him." He said quietly, and she had run, sobbing, to hold her father in her arms for one last time. Her dad was a hero, at a cost. He was dying now, in her arms because she had been stupid, so unbelievably stupid; he was dying for her mistake. The Doctor had died for her mistake; her dad had died for her mistake, she had risked the lives of the entire world just to see her dad again.

And the Doctor, he had already told her that he had killed his entire planet, he was the last of the Timelords. She should have known that it wouldn't have worked, or he would've saved his people. But she hadn't thought, she had just acted like always, screwing up the timeline.

Rose sobbed harder, leaning her head against the cold hard metal underside of the controls, the image of his eyes fixing itself in her mind, mingling with her fathers' final expression, the Reaper swooping down, the Doctor diving on top of her to save her life… Even with her eyes closed she couldn't escape the myriad of thoughts, emotions images.

The Doctor paused outside the control room, listening hard. Distinct sobbing could be heard through the partially open door, and he slipped into the room silently. He had feared this, knowing the emotion would catch up with her, but when she had run off earlier, he had hoped it might transform into anger. Anger could be dealt with easily, he knew from past experience. The TARDIS had a few tricks up her proverbial sleeve, he also knew from past experience. But now it was up to him.

He crossed the room silently, his face clouded, and he sank beside his companion, gently taking her into his arms. She leant forwards gratefully, tears streaming her cheeks, her body shaking, and she grasped him tightly, not wanting to let go. Moving a hand carefully, he moved her head onto his shoulder, and she sobbed into his jumper, his leather jacket lying across the room where he had left it earlier. Her now messy blonde hair tickled his cheek, and he closed his eyes, his own eyes shining with unshed tears.

"I killed you." She whispered brokenly, her voice muffled further by the thin material of the green jumper.

"I'm right here." He replied quietly, stroking her hair tenderly with one pale hand. There was silence for another few minutes, save for Rose's gradually quieting sobs.

"I'm so sorry."

"I know. So am I."

"I was so stupid, I didn't meant to hurt you…"

"I know. We all get stupid sometimes." His hearts clenched as he remembered the time with the Darlek. So stupid.

"It's all my fault." He leant back slightly, and gently moved her face so that he could look into her eyes.

"It's not your fault." He said seriously. "It's mine. I shouldn't have let it happen."

"I shouldn't have mentioned it." She replied. "It was a stupid idea."

"We all get something wrong occasionally. We can't do everything. Even me."

"You've never killed me though." She said, turning her face away from him.

"I did." He replied quietly. His own emotions where in his throat, making his voice thick.

"You were trying to save everyone, it wasn't your fault." Rose said, holding him closer.

"You were trying to save your dad."

"It's not the same. He still died." Her throat constricted further at the admission, and the Doctor rubbed her back soothingly.

"He died a hero, he died for you. That's got to be better than dying in a hit and run."

"But I couldn't save him."

"You never could." He said gently. "Just like I can't-" his eyes glittered with moisture.

"I'm sorry." The same words, a different meaning.

"It wasn't your fault."

"It wasn't yours either. You did all you could."

"It wasn't enough."

"It never is." She agreed, her tears stopping finally. Rose took a deep, calming breath, breathing in the scent of his jumper.

"You alright now?" he asked concernedly, letting his arms drop slightly.

"Dunno." She replied. "You?"

"Am I ever?" he said wryly, getting to his feet and brushing himself down. He held out a hand to Rose, and she took it, standing herself. "Your dad was a good man."

"I know. He saved us."

"He saved you. He did it for you." Blue green eyes met brown.

"You saved us too." She said quietly.

"I saved you." He replied, "I did it for you. I need you Rose."

"Well," she said with a hint of levity, "that's good, 'cause I'm going nowhere." she smiled, and he grinned, reached inside his trouser pocket and took out a small object.

"You might want this then." She took it, and without looking at it, knew exactly what it was, the thin metal digging into her clenched palm. The TARDIS key.


End file.
